The Paris Quartet
by Nuit Noire
Summary: Christine Daae lives with her father, discovers her passion for music, and eventually takes up singing at the Opéra National de Paris. What she finds there will lead her to a bizarre encounter with a killer, and to question everything she has ever known.


There was an echoing clack as the key slid into the lock. Pushing through the stone was easy, as it glided like a hinged door that had just been oiled.

(Behold the darkness

Lack of earthy pleasures

Sound of scythe whirring

In the lair of the devil) (so what was that sound?) He heard it fluttering. Nothing should have been living here, said the little device lying in his palm. It pulsed weakly, like a raw beating heart and trembled with each evanescent change of luminosity in the bland backdrop. Unsatisfied with the results it displayed, he shoved it into a pocket, balancing a long black case slung over his back.

The little girl only screamed once as he cut off her leg. There, in the lair of the devil, her pleas were swallowed by the stone walls, and nothing came of it. Only thin strips of flesh destroyed the stale air. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the fragrance of fresh blood and skin.

Now crawling, farther, deeper into the gloomy hall, eyeless candles glittering, hoping to light themselves up and denied of the privilege, footsteps resounding like a mirror image might, forever falling, forever running. Reaching the end of the pass proved difficult, because the mirrors disappeared in turn, one by one, dissolving like a liquid metal into the stained cement. At the end, he knew it was the end. The wall simply ended, ceased to continue. Dying away quiescently, without a smile, limp and chunky, designed so like the leg that dragged beside him. He must hurry. It grew impatient; he could feel it in the air, coming in shocking waves.

As if a fire was put to his behind, he sped up, dragging the remains of the victim behind. There were no more mirrors here. The chamber was dark that he had entered, and feebly lit with a single crackling flame, sitting somewhere in the distance. Gasping, he threw the leg on the stone. Flicker. Silence. The candle went out.

He sat there on his knees trembling, awaiting the decision, first pulling the beeping instrument from his pocket. No longer throbbing, the device went blank, tiny trail of millions of numbers gone. It beeped intolerantly, digital light snuffing itself quickly. Angry, he set the case down, gently, as if handling a child.

Suddenly, a flash, like a collapsed house twitching anxiously after the power of a mighty storm, and the candle burned brightly again, reaching its climax. Around it, the air danced, light waves of blank gray flying around.

No sooner had he inhaled, the light went out again.

_Oh god please…_ Heart racing...heart strings…leg hanging from the stone, dripping, dripping. Then the sound of a thousand tiny mouths feeding, licking, slurping rudely the pink strips into mouths. Inside, hundreds of sharp teeth gleamed in the dark.

They were finished now, he knew, and they were moving fast. _Oh please god have mercy have mercy have mercy. _Warm water trickling down his ankle, falling fast, crawling up, always up.

_You can reach for the stars but you'll never find them_

_You can cry for the moon but you'll never see it,_

_You can scream for release but you'll always be bonded_

_And howling for me will never release you._ He was dragged to the stone altar, wailing in a soft voice, somber as a harpist and weak as an infant.

"...Never Release You…Fool…" The voice was strong and loud. "Unacceptable…Fool…"

With a shriek, he was rolled onto his back. "i…never…i…" he stammered, weakly.

"You Will Pay For This Treachery."

"please god have mercy"

The shadow loomed over for only an instant, and soon he felt the skin peeling off his leg, bitten by tiny jaws, gulping the flesh down in bloody mouthfuls.

"This Is The Place Where The Stars Are Black…Black…And The Moon Is Empty…Empty…"

"i….never…knew…i…" A muscle slithered out around the bone, gray liquid dripping onto the cement. "please…i…"

The device beeped faithfully as his heart counted the seconds he had to live, solemn and long beats, like the drum of an executioner. Exhausted, he let the case drop to the ground, where it spilled open. A violin, black as sinewy twilight, hit the cement. Each string snapped in turn, a chilling cacophony destroying the unusual silence, and the chewing drivel of the mouths.

He watched it fall, and then the darkness closed in around him, falling like a velvet curtain.


End file.
